Little Bat Wings
by foggynite
Summary: The Little Vampire. Almost a decade after the change, and Rudolph can't forget. Tony doesn't want him to. Slash.


Title: Little Bat Wings  
  
Author: foggynite  
  
Fandom: The Little Vampire  
  
Pairing: Tony, Rudolph  
  
Rating: PG-13?  
  
Summary: Seven years after the turn and Rudolph can't forget. Tony doesn't want him to.  
  
Email: foggynite@hotmail.com  
  
Series/Sequel: probably not.  
  
Web Page:   
  
Disclaimer: Not mine, nope. I pout.  
  
Warnings: Is 17 considered underage? If so, consider yourselves warned.  
  
ooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooo  
  
He knows that Rudolph remembers it, the time when they were just becoming friends and Dolph couldn't go out in sunlight. He can see it in the way his best friend tries to scent the air when he's uncomfortable, the way he stares out from Tony's balcony at night, watching the horizon.  
  
No one mentions it, though. Dolph's parents don't speak of the time before they moved into their new house, now seven years past. They don't refer to the fact that they're over three hundred years old, that their children were naïve in the ways of this century because they were born in another.  
  
No one mentions it, so it never happened, and everyone else seems content to let it lie. Tony's parents invite Dolph's over to dinner every week or so, and they discuss their respective jobs over wine. Anna still writes Tony melodramatic poetry, only now her passions are saving the planet's ecosystems and not the bright blue of his eyes. For that, Tony is grateful. And Gregory is bumming around his parent's house, trying to figure out what he will do with his life because there are so many possibilities now.  
  
So Dolph and Tony are the only ones left who want to remember the time before, when the darkness held danger but also magic.  
  
When they were younger, just reaching into puberty, they would stay up in Tony's room until well past midnight, and Dolph would tell him stories of times long forgotten. They had to be stories because they couldn't be the truth, but it made Dolph feel better to release them from his mind, to let his memories flutter away on little bat wings.  
  
ooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooo  
  
It's the summer before their final year of school. The air is sticky and humid and drags at their legs, wraps around their ankles like a funeral shroud. The sun is glaring at them, beating on Dolph's fair freckled skin until he's bright red with heat and he takes off his sweat-soaked t-shirt trying to alleviate the worst of it.  
  
Tony studiously does not notice the light dusting of hair at the base of Dolph's spine, where the sweat has gathered, or the way his throat moves when he swallows. Tony tells himself that its envy making him so aware of his best friend, because Dolph is pushing five foot ten and Tony is almost five-five and his prayers for a growth spurt have not been answered yet.  
  
They are heading for the swimming hole at the far end of Tony's property. The water is a little brackish, slick with sediment on the bottom, but it will be cool and shaded by tall trees, so the boys can stand a little muck.  
  
Dolph hasn't said much today, just appeared on Tony's doorstep early in the morning, sat with Tony's parents at the kitchen table until the other teenager came down. It wasn't unusual, but he usually has something to say, at the least snarky comments in response to Tony's rambles.  
  
There is something in his pose, though, that Tony thinks might be anger or frustration or defeat. It's difficult to tell with Dolph, but Tony can generally decipher his friend's moods within a few minutes.  
  
As though in response to his friend's scrutiny, Dolph sighs and pushes through the decorative shrubs, letting the branches snap back at Tony's preoccupied head.  
  
"Hey!"  
  
"Sorry," Dolph throws over his shoulder casually, still walking away.  
  
"No you're not." Tony grumbles and pauses to wipe the sweat from the bridge of his nose, where it gathered under his glasses. Dolph turns around expectantly when he hears Tony stop moving.  
  
"It's just a twig, for pete's sake. No need to cry about it."  
  
"I wasn't-" Tony begins to protest, sees the smile at the edge of Dolph's lips, and glares. "You're a right bastard, you know that?"  
  
"Nope. I'm rather positive I'm my father's son." A full-fledged smile this time and Tony snarls.  
  
"It's a figure of speech!"  
  
"Is it?" Dolph quirks an eyebrow, then is off running before Tony can protest.  
  
The challenge was there and Tony's been on the track all this summer in an attempt to do something with his squat legs, so he falls into a hard sprint trying to catch up. Dolph's long legs eat up ground quickly, though, and Tony knows the other boy is pushing himself hard, running like Tony is running, until his lungs want to burst from his chest and his throat is dry from the harsh pants, and his legs are cramping, screaming protests. And still they run farther.  
  
Dolph collapses onto the grass next to the watering hole, unmindful of twigs and other prickly things, sweat pouring off his body and heat radiating and the bright sun is making Tony's vision blur as he staggers to a halt next to his friend.  
  
"You're-" Gasp. "Absolutely-" Hack. Cough. "Freakin' nuts."  
  
Dolph pants for a while, eyes falling shut. "Yes. Yes, I am."  
  
Tony flops down beside him, letting their shoulders touch. The sun is so hot, so sweltering, and he can feel sweat trickle through his spiky blonde hair. He squeezes his eyes shut, wishes his glasses were tinted. "It's all right. I followed you, so what does that make me?"  
  
Dolph rolls over, stares at him until Tony cracks open an eyelid and processes the other boy's serious expression. Dolph stares a moment longer, almost to the point of awkward because the intensity of that ice- blue gaze is making Tony think awkward thoughts that should be left to the privacy of his own room, and just when that train of thought begins to run rampant-  
  
"My accomplice in insanity?" Dolph offers quietly.  
  
Tony blinks, mind getting back on track and reviewing the conversation. "Aren't I always?"  
  
"Yeah." Whispered, and Tony is aware now of how close their faces are, can feel Dolph's breath stir his hair, his eyes drawn to his friend's lips, and this is. This is nice.  
  
But then Dolph surges quickly to his feet, shaking the heat of the run from his limbs and concentrating on the watering hole's placid surface. Tony resists the urge to sigh and crawls slowly to his feet, stripping off his shirt and kicking off his sneakers. By the time he's done, Dolph's already in the water, plunging his head in face first. Tony makes a face at that, because there are so many slimy things in there, but he wades in after him.  
  
He remembers a time when Dolph smelled like fresh turned earth, the smell of the dead and graves and mossy head stones. His mother had hated the scent, but Tony found himself missing it sometimes.  
  
The sun is reflecting off the water and they squint, wading over to the shady spot under a huge weeping willow. Bugs usually congregate in the shallows there, yet Tony's never had a problem when Dolph's around. Maybe nature remembers him, too.  
  
"Dude, this is great." Dolph floats tranquilly, giving him a teasing smile at the use of 'dude,' and making a half-hearted attempt to splash him. Tony ignores him and relaxes into the water.  
  
"Hella great, man."  
  
"'Hella'?" Dolph laughs incredulously, like Tony knew he would and it makes him feel flushed inside.  
  
"Totally. My cousin back home said it's the latest thing. He's weird. Don't ask."  
  
"Hm." Dolph leaves it at that intellectual murmur and they drift on in silence.  
  
After a while, Tony's thoughts are swimming circles around him, like little sharks. He knows Dolph is upset, can feel it in the space between them, and yet he's loath to break the peace his friend seems to have found.  
  
His curiosity always got him in trouble.  
  
"So." A good opening, very non-threatening. "Anything happen this morning I should know about?" Straightforward is always good. Dolph's frown implies it was bad, though.  
  
"No."  
  
Tony floats a little longer, wondering what else he can say. He's always been afraid of chasing Dolph away, of losing his one friend in this foreign country. Even after seven years of living here, he's still the 'odd little American,' but he's never had to worry about being alone as long as he's with Dolph.  
  
But lately. Lately Dolph's been rather distant. Not avoiding him, exactly, but not offering up thoughts like he used to, being snappish and just uncommunicative. Almost like he's withdrawing piece by piece, day by day, from their friendship, and that makes Tony want to cling all the more tightly.  
  
His mother always tells him he's too anxious. That he worries too much about things he cannot change, but he can change this. He knows he can.  
  
"Look, something must be up because you've been." He searches for the most diplomatic way to put that his best friend's been something of a pissy bitch lately, but his courage falters when Dolph glares at him.  
  
"I've been what?" Dolph's angry, and Tony doesn't know why he's so angry and he can't do anything but stare, which seems to goad Dolph further. "What's it now? Have I been too 'moody,' or maybe my 'sulking' is bothering you? Am I acting like a brat?"  
  
They're both standing in the chest-high water now, Dolph shouting, which makes Tony concerned for his typically reserved friend.  
  
"I'm three hundred and seventeen years old, Tony! Three hundred and seventeen! And they expect me to just forget all that, to just give it all up, and pretend that I'm seventeen, or else I'm crazy and causing problems for the family. But I can't do it. I *can't*." Turning away, Dolph stops waving his arms around and sinks into the water up to his arm pits. But he isn't running, isn't leaving, and that gives Tony some hope.  
  
Although, now that Tony has gotten him to talk, he's at a loss as to what he should say next. He settles for doggy-paddling over, but stops within an arm's reach.  
  
"I don't think you're crazy."  
  
Dolph sinks to chin deep and gives him a look that says, 'Please don't humor the crazy person. It upsets him.'  
  
Tony smiles. "Honest. I was there, remember? I saw everything."  
  
Unwinding, Dolph stares up at Tony, then snorts and lets his neck hang loose from his body, going face down into the brackish water. Tony paddles closer, gives him a push, and starts splashing away for dear life. Long- limbed, Dolph just grabs his ankle and pulls him back, dunking him.  
  
Sputtering, Tony wipes dead leaves out of his eyes and tries to untangle long grass from his glasses. "Yeeuch."  
  
"Sorry." Dolph's closer now, a pale blob with dark hair, but Tony can't really see without his glasses.  
  
"No you're not." Tony grumbles, trying to hide his smile.  
  
"You're right. I'm not." Slender fingers near his face, in focus now, and Dolph delicately picks a clump of debris from his hair. Tony's blushing, can't help it, and his body's reacting just to Dolph's proximity, and he blames it on hormones and the fact that he's never had a girlfriend or been interested in having one, and Dolph is leaning forward.  
  
"Besides, it's just a little water. No reason to cry about it." And his thumb is wiping the water from Tony's cheek, cool hand soothing the flushed warmth of blushing skin.  
  
"I'm not-" and Tony's glad the water's murky because this could be embarrassing, but he has the feeling that Dolph wouldn't make fun of him, not for that. Dolph, who is still leaning forward and the hand cupping Tony's face trembles, and there's that moment, like back on the grass, where they need to decide something and do something, and this time.  
  
This time Dolph bends down to touch his lips to Tony's, both breathing light and rapid, and Tony can taste fresh-tilled earth and mossy head stones, pitch-black nights but also sun-filled days. He tries to put all the warmth of summer in his kiss, presses back with a world of possibilities and takes the weight of Dolph's memories, so many years of memories, but he's willing to accept them all and take them inside himself, to give them a home if no one else wants them. He wants Dolph to know that he can be whoever he wants, teenager-adult-child-ancient, as long as he stays with Tony to share the years they have ahead of them, too.  
  
Dolph breaks away first and there's still shadows in his eyes and a foot of space between them, but there's a smile on his face, wide and blinding and sun-drenched in the shadowy water. And Tony can't help smiling back.  
  
Finis. 


End file.
